


If Only for a While

by sugarspuncoeurls



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, post-season 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 21:41:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15276771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarspuncoeurls/pseuds/sugarspuncoeurls
Summary: In which Allura urges Shiro to take his own advice.To his relief, Allura returns his smile, a giggle on the cusp of her words. “We always do seem to defy the odds, don’t we?” Shiro grins.“I’m seriously starting to think stubbornness is our greatest strength as a team.”





	If Only for a While

**Author's Note:**

> For someone who's such a sucker for romance, I sure keep it open-ended in my own writing. Anywho, this is my contribution to Shallura, post-Soul Touch(tm). Still crying about it. Enjoy! Also found on my tumblr, same username.

He sits outside of one of Olkarion’s buildings, studying a datapad chock-full of reports. He has a vague, foggy remembrance of the data listed, like he’s seen it before, but the urge to read through it all himself, with his own eyes, is strong. The urge to reestablish his  _world_  is strong, and for some reason, the start to that seems to be here, in the words and numbers detailing his team’s efforts. He’s been apart from it – from  _them_  – for long enough.

As he reads, he breathes deliberately, in and out. Re-acclimates himself to a need for oxygen, the currents of air on his skin, the sounds of the world through his own ears. It’s so different to what the lions experience, his senses absorbing less yet somehow feeling more, like trading perfect eyesight for touch. It’s weird. Overwhelming. Sometimes just a little uncomfortable. And then he feels Black against the backdrop of his thoughts and remembers how worth it it is. 

 _I’m fine, girl_ , he thinks,  _we’re okay._  And then smiles to himself as she quiets, warmth found in the powerful hum of her satisfaction.  

So preoccupied is he that he almost misses the way the swish of a door blends into the strange breathy chirp of the planet’s night insects. Footfalls, already near soundless, further muffled by grass as they approach, steady and unhurried. He’s already turning in his borrowed seat – a table seamlessly woven from branches and several matching chairs – when they cease, and a voice follows. “What are you doing?”

Allura watches him, her expression open, lightly curious, though there’s a tiny, unnatural furrow to her brow. Shiro indicates the datapad in his hand. “Trying to familiarize myself with all this.” He smiles, amused. “‘Trying’ being the operative word.”

“I see,” Allura responds. She tilts her head, eyeing the datapad before meeting his gaze. “Not resting, then, in other words.”

He blinks in surprise, sees the delicate arch of a lifted eyebrow. “I was, for a while,” he replies. “I got restless.”

“Any particular reason why?” Concern washes abruptly over her face, and he recalls the periodic checkups he’s endured over the course of the last several days, all to ensure he truly is on the road to recovery, that there are no complications from the sudden tumorous growth - and subsequent removal - of his arm. He smiles, an attempt to reassure her. 

“No, Princess. I’m fine.” When nothing in her expression changes, his smile widens. “I promise.”

“Oh.” The worry slowly eases, replaced by a cautious relief. “Good.”

“Scout’s honor,” he declares jokingly, then shrugs as he sets the datapad down on the table. “I’ve just never been very good at relaxing.” Even before Kerberos, he spent countless late nights and early mornings reading, studying, grading assignments, training.  _Rest when you’re dead_ and all that, though these days, the saying is more ironically funny than it is motivational.

“I understand,” Allura says. She clasps her hands behind her. “With everything that’s happened, I think we’re all experiencing a need to be active, to do something productive while in our current situation. It certainly doesn’t help that many of our usual means of comfort were lost with the castle.”

He sees her gaze drop, a familiar sorrow churning in the blue depths of her eyes. The loss of the castle was a blow he never could have prepared for, especially given the lengthy time he’d spent “away.” He’d been looking forward to his bunk, the common room; the kitchen, always smelling of Hunk’s cooking. He already finds himself missing the cyan glow of the lights at night, the star map on the bridge, the training arena where he would find release from the worst of his frustrations. He can only imagine how Allura and Coran must feel, to have been forced to let go of one of the last physical remnants of their people’s existence, their glory.

He knows it’s small consolation, but... “We’ll be alright, Princess,” he murmurs. When she looks up, he offers comfort in another, softer smile. “We’ve lost a lot, but we’re alive and safe, together. So long as that’s true, I don’t think good things will ever be far off. We’ll be okay.”

(In the back of his mind, he admits that “we” really means “you” and hopes it isn’t too obvious.)

To his relief, Allura returns his smile, a giggle on the cusp of her words. “We always do seem to defy the odds, don’t we?” Shiro grins.

“I’m seriously starting to think stubbornness is our greatest strength as a team.”

She does laugh this time, a sound that bubbles into the air, amplifies the peace of the night around them – that resounds inside, somewhere in a quiet pocket of himself he thinks might’ve only come awake when her magic touched his soul and wrapped it securely in her own. He thinks of his white hair and wonders if he’ll ever fully understand what happened, and how. For now, he’s content in simply being grateful.

“You might very well be onto something,” Allura is saying. Her smile is still bright. “It’s certainly a trait we all seem to share.” She looks at him pointedly. “Yourself included.”

Of course, she wouldn’t forget what started this conversation. Shiro acknowledges the hint with a nod. And then, fueled by a hint of self-consciousness, he sheepishly indicates one of the empty chairs surrounding him. “You're welcome to join me, if you want.”

Allura regards him carefully, her gaze inquisitive, before she inclines her head in thanks and takes a proffered seat across from him. She interlaces her fingers atop the table, her expression neutral.

“I’m not trying to tell you what to do,” she begins. 

“I know, Princess.”

“I just...” She pauses, mouth pursing, before continuing. “I know how difficult it can be to allow oneself reprieve.” She sighs. “Ever since I awoke from cryostasis, I’ve pushed myself. Through doubt, through fatigue, through the limits of my abilities. And for all the risks it brought, I justified it. ‘You slept for ten-thousand years while the universe burned; now, you will work, and if it’s another ten-thousand years before you sleep again, so be it’.”

“I know the feeling,” he replies. Allura nods, and her expression turns thoughtful.

“Pidge shared an Earth saying with me once. Something about a candle burning itself at both ends.”

Shiro smiles. “Sounds familiar.”

“She said it signifies someone who works too hard, often to the point of sacrifice, whether of their time, their energy, or their well-being.” Allura eyes the nearby tree line, where the leaves sway with a light breeze. Her lips quirk. “It’s a good saying. I fear it also describes me a little too well.” And then her eyes brighten as she leans forward slightly and meets his gaze. “Do you remember our first true encounter against Zarkon, after our infiltration into the Empire’s command ship?”

Of course, he recalls the time immediately – still feels a dull sting of guilt in the recesses of his heart as he remembers the slap of Coran’s shout, remembers the sight of her disappearing under that wave of Galra sentries. He doesn’t say anything, though; just nods and lets her voice guide his memories as it fills the quiet of the night.

“It was after you all came for me,” she continues. “After we’d all been separated and thankfully brought together again, only for Zarkon to find us.” She rubs her fingers over the patterns in the table’s wood, her expression just a little somber. “It was so frightening, being tailed by him like that. Thinking we were safe one moment, only for the shadow of his ship to take over the viewscreens the next.” The smallest of shivers runs up her spine, and Shiro instinctively gravitates forward, almost reaches for her, empathy making his arm twitch. Allura catches the motion, and she smiles in soft gratitude. “I’m alright. Thank you.”

“Just making sure,” he explains. “It was a difficult time.”

“It was. More difficult still when the chase proved to be so relentless.” She lifts her shoulders, folds her hands together on the table. “We tried everything we could, and nothing seemed to work. We were exhausted, frustrated. And slowly losing our minds as everything around us slowly became covered in Coran’s mucus.”

God. “ _That_ was…” he starts, and then merely shakes his head, his own tremor running up his spine. Allura lets out another giggle.

“It was a lot, needless to say. Between the chase, the fights, the jumps between wormholes, we all desperately needed rest.” Allura tilts her head, her gaze lowering. “And yet, when the chance for it came, I found myself unable to take it.”

She sighs. “I tried to, but couldn’t. Or  _wouldn’t_ , more like. I was so determined to ensure our safety that I thought it worth the ache behind my eyes, the heaviness in my arms and legs. It was worth my well-being, I decided, like I’ve decided so many times since I awoke from my slumber. Worth it…until someone told me it wasn’t.”

Allura turns her gaze from her hands to regard him, her eyebrows gently lifted. Shiro smiles. “Someone?”

“Someone very hypocritical.”

He chuckles. “Hypocritical?”

“Exceptionally. I admit I didn’t take his words to heart for some time after we spoke; Zarkon attacked us shortly afterward, of course. But afterward, taking the time to really consider it, I found his advice to be sound. Simple...” He laughs again, and she grins. “But sound.”

“I’m glad I could help, Princess.” 

“As am I. Which is why I believe I should return the favor.” And again, she gives him a look, a not-so-subtle hint.

Shiro sobers. Holds her gaze until it’s clear Her Highness won’t budge. Then he leans back in his seat and lets his eyes go to the sky. Takes another, deeper inward breath and focuses on the expanding of his lungs.

“It’s...hard,” he admits on the exhale. “I feel like I was gone forever. Even in the Black Lion, even while technically here, I felt so far away, separated from everyone and everything you guys were going through. I wanted to be here, in person, to help. As myself.” He sighs and looks down at the loose fist he’s made with his sole hand. “And now that I am, now that I’m actually, _fully_ here, I feel like I have to make up for-”

“Lost time.”

 _Oh._  He looks to Allura, and sees her smile wistfully. “I know the feeling,” she says, a perfect echo. And it happens again - that resounding sensation, like a pulse through the pathways of his soul. The breeze picks up, and his hair -  _her hair_  - flutters silver-white against his forehead -  _her cheeks_  - as the Black Lion gives another contented hum.

**_You should be resting._ **

_I cannot sleep._

**_I know how you feel, but...for a while..._ **

_Rest._

Allura’s smile widens. Shiro smiles himself, warm with memory and a touch of tender amusement. “I guess I could afford to take my own advice every now and then, huh,” he jokes.

Allura leans forward, her hands reaching. Gently, she uncurls his fist and takes hold of his fingers, a secure cradle between her palms. “Having come as far as we have, Shiro,” she says, looking at him, “I think we both can.”


End file.
